


Lost in the Stars

by WingedChickadee



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Blood, Blood and Injury, Hallucinations, Head Injury, Injury Recovery, Langst, Major Character Injury, Panic Attacks, mainly a lance centered story, the others will show up later - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedChickadee/pseuds/WingedChickadee
Summary: They didn't see him. They didn't see the lion falling quickly towards the planet's surface through the debris of broken Galra ships. They heard his shout of pain and shock, but not what happened. Six people all assumed he made it back to the castle, they didn't notice the missing paladin. No one noticed. Not a batted eye or turn of a head.When the paladin wakes up, he is injured and alone. Now, he has to try and survive until he can find a way home.





	1. Silent Crashing

They didn't see him. They didn't see the lion falling quickly towards the planet's surface through the debris of broken Galra ships. They heard his shout of pain and shock, but not what happened. Six people all assumed he made it back to the castle, they didn't notice the missing paladin. No one noticed. Not a batted eye or turn of a head. They did not see the lion's eyes dim and it go careening towards the planet of water and ice. He did not even remember falling. An explosion in front of him, then darkness. Not a single paladin heard the resounding splash of metal hitting water. The sound of metal crunching and bending. 

Not a soul saw the lion sink. Being pulled away and down by invisible currents. She bumps into rocks as she descends even deeper. Not online. Her paladin being thrown around within the cockpit. Bruising; more broken. Whether luck or fate, the currents pull her broken hull up into a cave. Safe for now. She does not come online. Above the unconscious and beaten paladin, the battle turns for the worst. A sound of retreat and a warp later, and the paladin is alone. Washed up and forgotten at the bottom of the ocean. He lays there in his lion. Still as stone. The only sound that could be heard is his faint breathing. His bayard is thrown across the cockpit. The pilot himself, splayed across the control panel. Red creeps ever so slowly over the blue of his armour, staining it. A new sound joins the paladin’s faint breath; drops of blood hitting the metal floor. It pools around him and coats the control panel. 

Maybe hours pass, who can tell when they are so far from Earth. A sharp breath reverberates throughout the cabin. Blue eyes open with a painstaking slowness. They almost close. He feels like he is floating. His brain doesn't register the pain. Until, it does. His closing eyes snap open and he feels like he is on fire. Lance body shakes when he tries to move. He cries out. He can't move, he can't. It hurts to much. 

“Blue..?” He calls with painful desperation. No answer.

The silence weighs heavy on his bruised shoulders. Blue isn't responding. She is not online. Lance takes deeper breaths, trying to remembering what the Garrison taught him. His eyes train forward at the closed cabinet that holds the emergency medical supplies. So close, yet so far. Might as well be miles away from him. He moves. The second Lance’s body shifts, pain spikes everywhere. The main source he leg. With a tentative look, he turns his gaze to his legs. One looks fine. The other, it looks worse for wear. Broken, possibly. 

Lance groans; from pain and annoyance. Of course. He shifts his left leg again. More pain. Okay, he takes a deep breath. He has to be careful. Lance takes slow steps, so slow. Survival overtakes the pain though. So no matter how much his body screams no, he keeps going. The bleeding paladin reaches the supply cabinet and it doesn't open.

“No! No..”

It won't open! No power. No god damn power. Lance bangs his fist on it with no energy behind it. He is so tired. He slumps against the wall underneath the cabinet. His eyes closing; it's too much. He is going to die here. Lance grits his teeth. No, no he won't. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to stand up, pulling a dagger out of its sheath. Every paladin armor has one. With fading strength he jams the dagger in the thin space between the cabinet and the wall. Spots cloud Lance’s vision; he keeps pushing against it. 

He falls to the ground, a faint hiss reaches his ears as he lays there. Lance looks up. The cabinet is open. He takes painful deep breaths, and stands once again. He grabs gauze, a split, practically everything that is in that cabinet. His tired heavy body crumples against the wall. Despite his ever growing headache and dizziness, Lace takes a quick evaluation of himself. He gives his left leg a gentle prod and groans. Broken, definitely broken. Now that he is more aware he can feel something warm and wet on his side. Lance places a hand there, and the corners of his vision turn black. 

“Well, shit..” 

The paladin grabs the dagger from the floor and cuts his uniform off as much as possible around the wound. His amour is in the way, but, if he moves to much he may make his gut wound worse. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the cut. It is shallow but long, so internal injury is less of a worry. Lance grabs the bottle of disinfectant, gritting his teeth in preparation. This will not be fun. Without leaving more time for hesitation, Lance pours the liquid into a cloth and gently cleans around the wound first. The amount of blood does not match the size of the wound. Lance frowns when he sees just how shallow the cut is. To bleed that much, he must’ve been out for awhile. He then cleans the wound itself. Gritting his teeth to try and not scream. Even if it’s shallow, still hurts like hell. Deep breaths. He places gauze over the wound, and wraps it tight enough to not move. 

Now comes the hard part, removing his leg armor to splint his leg. Lance reaches with shaking hands towards the clasps that hold his armor on. He decides that clearly this armor was not created for people without fast healing. Alteans clearly, from what he has seen from Allura and Coran, have faster healing than humans. He screams out when he tries to move the armor. Not easily removed. Joy. He grunts and tries to pull it off again. He pulls through the pain. The paladin refuses to give up. After a few ticks Lance manages to get the lowermost part of his left leg armor off. He moves onto the thigh armor; takes less work and causes a lot less pain. He straightens his leg as gently as possible, and attaches the split. Checking to make sure his foot has a pulse once he is done. Good, it has one. Lance knows he isn’t cutting off circulation now.

With his leg splinted, he works to take off the rest of his armor. His burnt, cracked, and broken armor. His eyes travel to his helmet, which is on the floor near his pilot seat. The visor is shattered; how he didn’t get glass in his eyes is a mystery. It is dented and the microphone is sparking. Great. Now he has no way to contact the others. He blinks, feeling the distinct lack of something. He noticed before, but, he was more in desperation mode and did not completely register it. Blue is silent. To silent. Even during the battle against Zarcon, and his lion was turned off, he still felt her presence. There is just nothing now. Not a whisper. Lance’s breathing picks up in speed. Blue can’t be dead.

The panic rising Lance cries out, “B-Blue..this isn’t really the time for jokes buddy. Come on, wake up Blue.”

Nothing. Lance tries to calm himself down. Maybe Blue is just resting, recuperating her strength. He nods to himself. Yeah, that must be the reason. He shoves the panic down and away. He needs to finish taking care of himself. He is no help to Blue dead. Lance blinks away blood that drips into his eyes. It tastes metallic in his mouth. The paladin with shaking hands, lifts up a small mirror to look at his face. It is painted with red and blue, and faint purple. Two cuts grace his face; one through his right eyebrow and the other cutting the top of his lip. He cleans them gently, and wraps gauze around the eyebrow wound. He simply holds a clean cloth to his lip. 

With the medical situation at least handle for the most part, Lance looks around the cabin of his lion with a slow turn of his head. The world spins. Aw, no. Lance closes his eyes tightly and groans. Does he have a concussion? Probably. That means no sleep for a bit. He can’t move, he can’t sleep, and he has no way to reach any of his friends. Lance has no clue what to do. 

“I could try and move, even though I just wrapped everything. I’d have to be careful though.”

He decides to just sit there for a few more ticks. He really doesn’t want to move yet. At all, really. So his mind wanders instead. Lance thinks of whether or not his friends made it away this place safely. He remembers that they were losing, badly. Prince Lotor is no joke. They had heard rumors, went to investigate, and promptly got their asses handed to them. Lance sighs and leans his head back against the wall. Maybe they noticed he is gone by now. They at least noticed Blue is gone, probably only upset over Blue. He huffs, telling himself he is wrong. They will care that he is technically missing. Lance frowns, tilting his head away from the wall after only a few seconds of rest. He can’t sit still. He needs to take note of his supplies, see how badly damaged Blue and his helmet is; his regular armor too. 

He tries to move and hisses in pain. Maybe no moving right now. Later, definitely later. He slumps against the wall again, his hands lax at his side. His mind wanders again, from his space family to his Earth family. Lance wonders whether it is still the same decade they left in. Would Lisa and Raquel be teenagers when he got back, old women, or still near the age he left them at? Could Ivan and Paul be dead? He was the middle child. Would he come back to a broken family? Could they just..not exist anymore? Lance knows there is the chance he will never go back to Earth. He accepts that he will die out here, in space, so so far from home. Looking at his chances now, Lance is scared he will die in a galaxy he doesn’t know far from both of his homes. Alone.


	2. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hours pass and Lance’s headache is gone for the most part, save the constant throbbing of his skull. He has for the most part stopped bleeding. Now, it's time to organize his supplies.

Hours pass and Lance’s headache is gone for the most part, save the constant throbbing of his skull. The smaller cuts scattered across his body have stopped bleeding. He sighs and looks down at the splint, he hasn’t tried to move yet. Didn’t want to risk anything. Blue’s silence was worrying, she was never this quiet. . Never this silent, especially for so long. Lance counts his breaths, keeping himself calm as he pushes up off the ground, . A quiet hiss escapes from his mouth as stiff and bruised muscles are forced to move, and makes sure to grab his dagger as he stands. Once he is standing, Lance limps over towards the storage compartments of his lion. He isn’t looking forward to forcing another cabinet open. When he is found,—when, not if, because he is going to be found—he is gonna have to talk to Pidge about ways to make these cabinets open without power. The bruised paladin wedges the dagger between the cabinet and the wall. Putting most of his weight on his good leg, Lance pushes against the dagger, popping this one open easier. At least this time he is pretty much conscious. 

Labeled containers with bars of goo; Hunk’s idea, bottles of water, a small bag that contains purifiers—at least; Coran says the tablets are water purifiers—and a fire starter.. He bends over and pulls out the three countainters of goo bars. Time to count and ration. Lance sits down in a mess of limbs and lack of balance, trying desperately not fall on his ass. His side still burns in pain, even if it isn’t bleeding heavily anymore. He dumps out the six containers and reads the label on them. Altean and English; Lance could kiss Hunk right now. He frowns, sadness enveloping him. He may never hug Hunk again, or Pidge. Or Allura, Shiro, even Keith or Coran. The reality shakes him. He chokes out a sigh. Lance knows he can’t think about stuff like that. He will see them again. He’ll see them and talk to them and he will hug them. 

So he clears his head of the negative thoughts, and reads the labels for the bars, learning each will last indefinitely while sealed, and a bar will power over someone for a day. Or until he gets hungry. So he has twenty of these in each container, which means he has enough bars to last sixty days, maybe more if he cuts it down to half a day. So Lance knows he at least has enough to survive until the others find him. If they find him. Lance pales at his own thoughts. Of course they will find him. The others will notice he is gone, and care. They will. Right..?

He repacks the bars, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind, . leaving one out for him to eat as he sits there on the floor. Lance doesn’t want to move. He stares up at the ceiling, his breath and beating heart the only sounds he can hear. He tries to focus on that, and not his thoughts. His cynical thoughts. Images of them partying, contrasting with what he knows about his friends; his family. So instead he tries to narrow in on eating the bar, listening to his breathing, and the sound of his rapidly beating heart. He focuses on how flavorless the bar is. The hope he had that Hunk had secretly managed to input flavor into the goo completely diminished. Nothing, completely lacking any flavor. So it is just mush in his mouth. After this bar, Lance will start rationing. For now, he just wants to do something absentmindedly. To try to ignore the pain, the silence, the loneliness. Lance blinks when he goes to bite the bar and nothing is there. Oh, he finished already. He didn’t notice. Now he is left to his thoughts. 

“No, no, I won’t just sit here and wallow in my thoughts. Even if that seems better than moving. I need to… to... to do something! I need to do something.”

Lance grunts as he stands; nearly collapsing back to the floor when his splinted leg gets in the way. He isn’t used to this, to having a splinted leg. He feels his body pitching towards the floor, and as fast as he can puts his hands on the wall. Only just being able to stop himself from falling. 

“Shit, okay. Alright, I need to be more careful.” 

He takes slow steps forward; his hands stay on the wall to keep himself stable. The faint ringing in his head gets louder and the pounding headache worsens as he moves. He shouldn't be moving. He should stay still and just sit. But no. Blue is more important. He reaches the pilot chair after what feels like an eternity. Lance pales and feels nausea at the amount of dried blood on the control panels. The white machinery is a dark red and brown. Did he really lose so much blood? Lance runs a hand through his hair, a bit shocked at this development. How is he not dead? “Shit… I-I need water.” 

Another painstakingly slow journey, Lance limps back along the wall towards the supply cabinet. His splinted leg burning in protest with each movement t. He really shouldn't be moving.

Yep. Shouldn't have moved. Lance’s vision fills with black spots and clouds over as his movements slow more. The pain in his leg flaring up even more. All he can hear is the constant ringing in his ears, pain shooting through his head.. His hands move from the wall to cover his ears; to stop the horrible ringing. As he lurches forward, He sees the ground coming near, but doesn’t feel himself falling- he doesn’t even remember hitting the ground.


	3. The Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile at the castle...

How had the battle turned so bad? One minute they were fighting, Voltron completely together. But the next, they had to split away from each other to avoid getting hit. To many ships for just Voltron. It was like a white out of snow; instead of a suffocating white wall it was a blinding purple storm. No one could see the others. They could barely see their own cockpits. Were there twenty ships in front of them or fifty? Was that Keith screaming, maybe Pidge? They were blind, and to focused on themselves. Shouts blended with their own. No one heard, no one saw, Lance get shot and plummet. 

A retreat is sounded and the four paladins flying escaped through the wormhole. They are to caught up to notice. How could they? The paladins have their own worries to deal with. Whether their lion is okay. Just how did the battle turn so bad so quickly. No one even thinks to check. Not for a second. Hunk is worried when Lance is silent on comms, but then again, so is everyone. So he thinks nothing of it; Lance doesn't always talk. 

The castle appears in a desolate area, far from where they just were. Still no one notices. Each lion goes to their respective hanger. Doing a post-flight check. No significant damage. They got lucky out there, no Lion is damaged. Well, no remaining Lion. Pidge looks over her stealth tech, it stopped working with all the bright lasers. Was it too much heat? Or did the copious amounts of light overwhelm the light bending tech she uses for it. She can't tell. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ears. Time to work. 

She buries herself into her lion. Ignoring any sounds she hears, or footsteps. Probably just Lance. At this point, she can tune him out. Lots of practice. It's not that she dislikes Lance’s company. She just wants to focus on her work. If it wasn't a serious thing she was working on, Pidge would listen wholeheartedly to Lance. Not now though. So when a voice starts speaking to her, she just ignores and keeps working. If it's Shiro, he knows how to get her attention. Shrio’s trick isn't used. She keeps working.

Hunk sighs as Pidge ignores him, he was just asking if she's seen Lance. Without speaking, she gave him an answer. Even if he was here, she wouldn't know. He walks away to find Shiro. Maybe he would know. Hunk pauses in the hallway; where would Shiro or Keith be? He sighs, training. After such a failure of a battle, the two of them would be fighting bots or each other. Hunk turns on his heel and heads towards the training room. He hopes Lance is there. Maybe training also. 

Hunk walks into the training room and is met with the sound of metal on metal. There is Keith training, along with Shiro. They don't notice him at first. So Hunk just watches. Keith is swinging at robots with his bayard, and Shiro is using his arm. (Not his bayard. Never his bayard). Hunk watches for a few more ticks. Then speaks.

“Hey! Have you two seen Lance?” 

They don't look at him, maybe they didn't hear him. Hunk sighs. Those two can get so hyperfocused on training. He is tempted to stop the training. To ask them for help finding Lance, but, it isn't his place to do that. This is how they cope. Finding Lance is important too, so, he calls out again.

“Have you guys seen Lance? I haven’t been able to find him in the castle!” 

So with their silence as his answer, he turns around and moves out of the room. His frustration building. The clanging of metal on metal following him out. 

Hunk walks around the castle. Trying to find Lance, or Allura, maybe Coran. No such luck. Lance’s room is locked, and so is Blue’s hanger. He knows Lance likes his privacy. Especially after something goes wrong, really wrong. So Hunk isn't that worried. He’ll just make some food for Lance, for everyone, and bring it to Lance later. When he's done talking to Blue, or sleeping in his room. There isn't anything to worry about. Lance is fine, Hunk reassures himself, repeating the thought over and over again to himself. Until he's just thoroughly convinced. Lance is fine.


	4. Voices in His Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is hearing voices and tries to be productive, but his brain and body is against him.

**“You didn’t belong** **here Lance, you're a failure.”**

_“Lance, do you really think I'm your friend?”_

“Why did Blue pick you Lance? You're not smart enough to do anything.”

Lance covers his ears as the voices taunt him. They’re lying. Curled on the floor of Blue, his stomach feels like needles are jabbing into it. He's been eating. Why does this hurt so much? Why is he hungry? Lance has no idea how long it has been; how long he's been here. Maybe it's only been a few days. He can’t tell. Time has slipped away from him.  He rationed the bars; half of one each day. It should be fine. He should be okay. He isn’t though. Lance has no idea if he could last until the others find him. He knows they will find him.

_“Come on Lance, do you think we even care you're gone?”_

Lance just sobs weakly, and pushes the thoughts away as best he can. He needs to eat. He just needs to do something. He pushes off of the ground; Lance’s arms are shaking so much. He almost isn't able to get up. His head is swimming with different voices and muddled sounds. Every little ping in Blue’s cabin is amplified, and the voices in his mind sharp and hurtful. His breathing is soft and hazy; indistinguishable from the other sounds. Lance finds strength somehow to stand, to move at all. He drags himself towards his food supplies. He should eat. Has he eaten already today? Lance can’t remember. He blinks. When was the last time he ate. Did he eat yesterday? Is there even a yesterday..

“What is..” His voice is barely audible; it is simply a scratchy sound.

Lance reaches his food supplies and grabs an opened bar of goo. Maybe he’s eaten today. It doesn’t matter. He scarfs down the bar with the speed of a starving animal. Guess he could be considered one of those. A starving animal: slowly dying, alone and forgotten. No, no not forgotten. Lance reminds himself; he isn’t forgotten. He can’t be. He slumps down against the wall. Not forgotten. He is not forgotten!

Lance looks around the cockpit at all of the unfocused fuzzy pieces of tech. He blinks. It shouldn’t be fuzzy. Even if the world around him is unfocused, that fact brings clarity to him. He hasn’t eaten enough, or he has a head injury. There is the very likely chance of both being true. The last time his world looked like a messed up binocular lenses was a few years ago; he was too sick to get up and eat, and his family was away for the day. He would nearly pass out when he stood up to eat, so it was a vicious cycle. Lance doesn’t have family here to help him through it this time. He needs to eat. He has too. He needs to be alive for the others to find him.

_“Lance you are useless as we thought!”_

Lance covers his ears as another voice yells at him, he screams back, “SHUT UP!”

He curls into a ball of desperation; his body in more pain from gut wrenching sobs. He doesn’t want to listen to what the voices are saying. He knows they aren’t true. Does he though..? Lance closes his eyes and presses his hands closer to his ears; he wants them to stop! To shut up and just leave him alone.

A soft voice whispers in his ear, **“Eat Lance, they can’t hurt you. I promise.”**

Lance blinks and keeps his eyes open. The other voices are gone. Or, at least they are quiet for the time being. He is going insane; he has the whole hearing voices spiel down pat. Just give him hallucinations and a straight jacket. He sighs at his dark joke. It takes a few minutes to overcome the soul-crushing weight holding his body down, to merely move his arm to grab the goo bar. Eating is an entirely different set of challenges. The goo touches his tongue, and in an instant he feels sick. Lance can’t eat. If he eats then he will throw up. That is a definite.

** “Eat slowly Lance, you have to eat. We will come find you.” **

Lance scoffs and looks back down at the bar of goo, mumbling, “Well indistinguishable voice of reason, can’t argue with you. Can I?”

He is going crazy. He is going to die hearing voices yell at him,-one being positive but still hearing voices-. He is going to die alone with the voices. Oh god. He doesn’t want to die. So, he takes the advice of Reason. _Yeah, let’s give one of the voices a name. That’s always smart. Naming the goddamn voices he is hearing is the best thing to do in this situation._ Reason continues to coax him eating the remainder of the goo bar. Soft words of comfort. Lance manages to eat the remaining half of the goo bar, and somehow a half of another. The small amount of food does not even begin to fully clear his head, but it helps. He can think a bit better, and his stomach doesn’t hurt quite as much. The voices are quiet for once.

“Come on Lance, just stand up and check on Blue.”

He takes slow deep breath and stands up, using the wall to help him. He walks over to the console and looks at the screen. There is no electricity. None of the damaged parts are sparking. That is...bad. He picks up his helmet and looks at it carefully. It is crushed completely around the microphone. Lance is surprised that he didn’t get a worse concussion. Well, he is hearing voices so, maybe he got hit harder than he thought. He sighs, whatever. He can worry about his growing list of mental issues later, after he checks over Blue. He pales at how much blood is on the console. That is a lot of blood. It is caked on; Blue would hate to be that dirty.

Lance takes a few more deep breaths. He needs to remember to keep doing that as he moves, to make sure he doesn’t pass out again. The blue paladin tries to pull of the control panel. Hitting every button Blue has. Nothing. There is not a spark or mental purr. Just silence. Lance didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. Now he is faced with the reality of his situation. Blue is offline, and his helmet is trashed. He has no way to contact the others.

_“Do you think we would respond even if you could contact us? We don’t want you back!”_

Lance shakes his head. The ringing growing louder after shaking it. Not a smart idea. _Okay, future self, no more shaking of the head. Just. Cover your ears maybe? Alright? Okay._ He takes three more deep breaths. _Keep yourself calm, Lance. No need to panic. Breath. Just keep reminding yourself._ He gives the console one more look over before turning in the direction of the exit ramp. Taking another deep breath, he uses the wall to help him over to and down the ramp. Making sure to just, not look at the dark dried blood on the floor and the walls; how much did he bleed?

He reaches the bottom of the ramp and pauses. What if the air is unbreathable? His helmet is destroyed, so he can’t use it to breath. Lance tries to remember what _Allura_ said about the planet. He can’t remember anything. His eyes widen; he can’t even remember the battle or anything before. How damaged is his head?! _Okay, okay just keep breathing Lance. Don’t think about-what if it’s been longer than he thought? What if he is presumed dead and the others aren’t even looking? Oh god, what if the oxygen in Blue is almost used up and he just doesn’t know it? How can he test to see if the air outside is breathable without Blue? What can he do?!_

“ **Lance! Lance just breath. You are a paladin of Voltron! Calm down and think this through. You can do it,” ** Reason shouts in an abrupt manner in Lance’s mind.

It snaps him out of his mental spiral. Yeah, he may be the weakest Paladin, but he still is one. He can do this. He will figure this out. In the corner of his eye, the Blue Paladin sees something he forgot was there. A breathing mask. It has enough oxygen, courtesy of Pidge, to have at least two hours of outdoor use. He can do this; except, his armor won’t fit with the splinted leg. So he either needs to wait it out, risk the world being freezing cold, or try to move without the split and risk worse damage. What would a paladin do? Lance narrows his eyes and grabs the oxygen mask. A paladin wouldn’t wait around. They’d be brave and go outside.

** “No Lance, just wait, it might be to-” **

“Oh shut up Reason!” Lance shouts to the silent cockpit.

He pulls on the oxygen mask, and before Reason could talk him out of it, he pull the emergency lever that opens the ramp to the outside. A rush of mildly hot air greets him as the door opens. So not freezing cold, that is a good start. The fact that it is hot is a tad concerning. Because hot, and underground, usually means some sort of volcanic activity. Of course he would get stranded on a planet that _Keith _ would love. He limps down the ramp; Lance making especially sure to try and guess how close he is to the heat source or not. It feels fine. When he steps onto the rocky floor of the cave, his feet aren’t burning.

He spins on his heel and looks back at Blue. A soft gasp echoes around the cave. Blue is destroyed. Completely and utterly trashed. There is scorch marks across all of her hull. Dents and visible wires litter her body. Lance lips forward and places a gentle hand on her hull.

“Oh Blue, I'm so sorry.”

He knows he isn't getting back to the castle anytime soon. If ever...


	5. Not a Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a chapter :P sorry. It is coming soon.

Hi! Sorry that this is not a chapter, I am almost done writing the next one. Some real life stuff just popped up. I do, however, want to thank everyone who has read my story, and a double thank you for everyone who has commented. You all are awesome people! 

The new chapter, should, be up by Saturday May 6th.


	6. Lost Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words tend to be forgotten in the vastness of space. Especially during a war.

Lance is makes sure he eats a full goo bar every other time he eats. He will eat half a goo bar, then eat the rest while eating half of another within the next day or two. After the hell that was earlier, he figures that only half a bar  was not enough to sustain his body. At least, while he is so hurt. Science and biology stuff. He sighs, and looks over from his seat on the floor. His helmet taunting him from across Blue’s cockpit. Blackened and silent; new dents covering it. He may or may not have thrown it at the wall a few times earlier. _Okay Lance, time to get up and get back to work._ He pushes himself up using the wall and limps towards the console. Kicking the helmet with his working leg for good measure.

He sits on the floor in front of the console and opens a panel to access the wire. _Don’t think about the dried blood you’re sitting on, don’t think about it._ He takes deep breaths, always taking deep breaths. Inside of Blue, everything is black and burnt; charred to hell with no looks of repairing, no chance of life returning- _No Lance, no._ ** _Don’t_** _think about that. Blue will come back online, you will get out of here, you_ ** _will_** _get home._ He shoves all his horrifying thoughts away and just tries to remember what he learned about wiring. He focuses purely on the wires.

“Lance, you are an idiot. You couldn’t even understand how a paperclip worked,” a snide voice says.

Lance sighs and grumbles, “Stupidity, could you just, not today? I am trying to work.”

“Work? You could barely remember what a screwdriver looked like! You are so dumb, oh my god.” A horrid laugh sounded from the voice at the end of the comment, condescending in tone following the final words into the laugh.

“Stupidity, just _shut up_!”

Lance tries to tune them out, the voice he aptly named after what it called him. Stupid. This one always calls him stupid, questions his brain‒well, his intelligence‒ and capabilities intellectually. It always does that. The voices all have a theme. So, at least he isn’t going completely crazy. Well maybe he is. Eh, he probably is. Who knows. _Come on Lance, focus on your work._ He takes a deep breath, shoves Stupidity and it’s words to the back of his mind, and goes back to work for a few hours.

There is nothing left to salvage inside of Blue’s console wiring. Everything is burnt, frayed, and/or torn to shreds. He may not remember much from the Garrison, but, he knows that this is something that is very, _very_ , bad. Lance shifts and winces. His broken leg still causing surges of pain l despite it being… some time since he hurt it‒ _How long had it been now? Wait no- don’t think about it‒_ . There is no way to have a sense of time in this underwater cave; just his luck. He has three, four , things preventing him from being found and rescued: his broken helmet, Blue being offline, and now being far underground, ~~and the others not looking for him~~. He remembers to breath and stands up. Nothing he can do in there. Well, maybe he can find something in the storage area. _Stupid Lance, you should have checked before opening the panel again._

“Didn’t even need me to remind you, you’re growing up so fast!”

“SHUT UP!” Lance screams slamming his fist against the wall. “Shit!”

He pulls his hand to his chest; said body part screaming in pain, with pins and needles stabbing all the way up to his elbow. Tears prick his eyes and he struggles to take deep breaths. _I hit Blue!_ His hand really hurts _-how could I hit Blue! What is the matter with me? Am I that- that_ infuriated _that I’m going to take it out on my_ ~~**_dead_ **~~ _hurt lion?!_ He falls to his knees, and his broken leg protests the action. He doesn’t care. He can’t–He hit Blue. HE HIT BLUE. No, no matter what, he can’t do that–he shouldn’t have done that. _What is wrong with me?!_

 **“You are a disgrace to the paladins, Lance. You hit your lion. The lion YOU put into this mess- that you** **_hurt_ ** **. How can you even stomach to call yourself a paladin of Voltron?”**

Lance curls in on himself more. He can’t breath. He can’t..he..Why can’t he..What is happening? Why is **Failure** talking to him now?! NO-no, **Failure** is right. He always is right. Lance doesn’t deserve this. He never deserved Blue. Look where he got them. Lost and forgotten ~~not forgotten~~ on an abandoned planet. ~~_Abandoned, he was abandoned and forgotten they left him they abandoned him._~~ He is a pathetic paladin. _Forgotten and left_ ~~ ** _and abandoned_**~~ _and stupid, they forget me I’m useless so useless such an idiot so stupid- Stupid_ stupid stupid! SO STU-

**“LANCE! Lance, Lance please breath. You are not forgotten, I promise. No one has forgotten you. Just breath and shut them out.”**

Reason, Reason is here to help him. So Lance listens‒tries so hard to listen but no they forgot him they _forgot_ him because he was _useless, so useless and stupid so useless, useless useless stupid stupid stupid-_ . He shakes violently, trying desperately to focus on Reason- _just listen to Reason listen-_ he breaths. Deep breath in, then out. In… and out… _like that- again. Listen to Reason- just breath but he was so_ **_stupid-_ ** _no stop listen listen listen-_ another deep breath, _just listen,_ in and out. Trying to focus, to listen. Uncurling himself, slowly. Opening his lungs to the intake of breath.  So slowly, painfully slow he focuses, his breath evens out.  Stupidity and **Failure** fade away into the back of his mind. Silence echoes in his head for the first time in a few hours; a welcome relief. A welcomed silence.

He stays there for awhile, maybe an hour, maybe only thirty minutes. He forces himself to keep breathing. To keep his breath calm and deep. His chest still feels constricted and numb, but he hasn’t passed out yet. That’s a plus. Lance’s back is pressed against the wall, trying to keep from curling in on himself in hopes of making breathing easier. He can’t remember what he was doing earlier. He looks around, trying to piece together what his plan was. _What was it… i don’t–_ Does it even matter?

“Yes Lance, it does matter. Because otherwise those annoying little voices will come back and-” He finds himself talking to himself more, and more. He doesn’t trust any voice in his head. Not anymore.

He takes another deep breath. No. He is not going to go into another panic attack. Just think through it slowly. _What was I doing? I was... I was working on the console, and trying to see if I could find any salvageable wires. Then I stopped. Okay, then I stopped and then… then I... I stood up to- to try and find wires in storage. So I walked forward! And, then, and then...I… I can’t remember. I guess it was whatever triggered the panic attack, so… so maybe remembering isn’t the best idea._

Lance pushes himself back up. The sound of footsteps echoing in the silent hull as he moves towards the storage area of Blue. It’s a haunting sound. The storage room is not empty, when Lance goes into it. He has not been here often. It...it has a sense of loss to it. Like there are things he should not disturb here. His eyes look around the dimly lit room. Something heavy is in the air, and he doesn’t move for a good few minutes.

“Okay Lance, there is nothing in here that is gonna hurt you. It is just a creepy dimly lit storage room. Just take a step forward, and look for wires. Or something.”

Lance does that. He takes a slow step forward. Then another. After a few he finds himself in front of a dark blue bin. It is labeled in Altean so,well, he can’t really guess what any of the contents could be beforehand. One deep breath and he opens the pin. Inside are clothes. Dark blues and with different shades of silver and greys to accent it. _Were these..._ Lance keeps digging. With gentle hands he sets the clothes to the side and the tense air grows heavier. Inside are letters, journals, and what he can only assume are photos.

There are some small trinkets. This must have been the old Blue Paladins things.

“What? Can I-” Lance pauses before he picks up the physical journal. Does he have permission‒no, the _right,_ to touch these? With shaking hands, Lance reaches down and picks up one of the journals. He opens it. It is no shock he does not understand what is written. He speaks very little Altean, and can read practically none. Gentle fingers flip through the pages. Lance recognizes what looks like tear stains, and blood...blood stains; he keeps flipping through the pages. Even as the Altean grows more and more shaky, less fluid and clean. The blood strains grow more common. He can only guess this was around the fall of the Altean Empire, and a crash land on Earth. Then it abruptly stops. With over half of the journal empty.

_“Wow Lance. Reading someone’s journal. What kind of person are you? That guy is dead.”_

“Just...be quiet. I can’t even read it, so I’m not intruding.”

He closes the journal, only to be met with another voice. He hates this one the most.

_“Huh. Guess this guy was forgotten right? Crash landed on a planet, and left alone. Wonder what will happen to you. This guy, a much better paladin, was lost and forgotten. Pffft, I wonder what chance_ **_you_ ** _could have.”_

Despondent eyes travel down to his hands. _Forgotten _ _is right. What chance do I have? This guy-this guy was the real deal. But, even_ **_he_ ** _crashed landed alone, and then stayed alone, and he died... he died alone… What chance is there of me, a… a_ **_lesser paladin,_ ** _being found in time? Are they even—NO! No, they’re looking. I know they’re looking. They… they have to be looking._ He takes a deep breath, looking at the journal again.

**“Well, you have his journals. His voice is not lost, not forgotten, it was just misplaced. You will be found. The others are alive, his friends were not. They had lost a war, you are still fighting it. You will not be forgotten. Your voice will not be lost.”**

**Reason** is right. Yeah! The others still need him-well, need Blue. ~~Not him…? No, they need Blue, they need~~ ** ~~Blue~~.** He can hold out, maybe repair Blue. He may not be found, but the others will need Blue when they do finally track her down! He can’t leave her in disrepair when they find her. He **won’t** be forgotten.

**“Lance, that is not what-”**

“I will fix Blue! I may die alone, but… but the others will find Blue! They have a war to win. I need to make sure that she is able to be tracked, before they get hurt. I may not be here, but they’re gonna need to find her. I can-I’ll write down what I do. That way Hunk and Pidge can fix whatever mistakes I’ve made! Yeah, they’ll fix my mistakes again… I make a lot of mistakes don’t I… no, no but Blue won’t be left alone for another ten-thousand years. I-I may….I won’t be forgotten, I am not forgotten. I am _not_ and _will not_ be forgotten. Never forgotten.”

_“Are you sure Lance? Are you sure your little heroic sacrifice won’t be in vain? We’re―”_

Lance with a revitalized energy, ignores _Forgotten _ , and digs through the rest of the bin. Looking for a writing utensil. Anything, really, that will allow him to document what he does. So the others, when they find Blue, can fix whatever mistakes he made. He knows he’ll make mistakes, but he is more sure that Pidge and Hunk will be able to fix them, they always did. Energized hands pause when they find a drawing. It is strangers in paladin armor. Only, the one in the black armor’s face is crossed out. _Zarkon._ Previous Blue Paladin...must have not wanted a reminder. He can agree. He gives a small sigh to push that thought away and finds a makeshift pencil at the bottom.

Okay. He can do this. This is his job now; he will hold out until Blue is fixed enough to be tracked. Then-well… then, if the others find him. That would just be a bonus. His sole job now, is to get Blue online. His life, well, that’s forfeit at this point. He is a small voice; a whisper in the grand scheme of the universe. One small voice, destined to be lost in the trillions of stars of the galaxy. ~~_What difference could a dead man make anyways?_~~


	7. Question and an Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So uh, it's been a year.

So it's been a year since I updated this story last. I wanted to apologize in part for anyone waiting to read the next chapter of this story. 

To be honest right after I updated it last year I fell into a slump and life stuff just piled on rapidly. So I not only didn't have time, but I also fell out of love with the show itself. Now I am contemplating shelving that dissatisfaction to just simply finish the story I started so people can get a conclusion. But I'm not so sure now, a year later, that people even want that conclusion. I know what I want for the last two or three chapters, but only in a rough sense. 

If anyone reads this update, please let me know if you wish to see the conclusion? I can't promise it won't take a bit, but I will finish this if people truly want to see how this story I thought of a year or so ago ends. 

Thank you, and again, I'm sorry for taking so long.


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